


If You Love Me Won't You Please, Please Smile?

by Stellabella13



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Creepypasta, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 02:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13448763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellabella13/pseuds/Stellabella13
Summary: Perhaps it was the cold. Yes. That had to be it. It was the cold that was making it so hard to breathe. There was nothing out there. Never was, and never will be. The woods stand still. Yet... something in her tells her that she is not alone.





	If You Love Me Won't You Please, Please Smile?

Nothing could calm her down. Not the faint buzz of her car engine. Not Twenty One Pilots playing off of her phone. Not even the endless curtain of trees that she used to admire gave her the satisfaction of peace. She grits her teeth and tightens the hold on the steering wheel when her phone buzzes once more; undoubtedly Jack begging her to come back home. She reaches over and mutes the phone, tossing it into the back seat so she did not have to look at it. A sick reminder of what had happened hours before...

She shakes her head and a soft sigh weaves its way out from between her pale pink lips.  She shakes her blonde bangs out of her hazel eyes and regains focus on the road. It was going to be alright; she just had to reach her Nan's house. Her heart tightens slightly. 

_Nan._

It had been two years since she passed away, and there was not a moment when Belle did not miss her dearly. It had been so sudden. It had all happened so fast. Too fast. Teeth nibble her bottom lip as she turns; off the paved road and down a winding dirt path hidden between great pines and spruces. A white cottage comes into view, and finally, after three hours of driving, relief washes over her. 

_Home._

Belle practically fled the car, dragging her duffle bag from the boot and stomping up the rotting wooden steps to the front door. It was dirty inside; after all, she had not been up here in a while. She dropped the bag on the floor and a huge grin spreads across her face, troubles forgotten. She found the old cleaning supplies in an old dusty cupboard beneath the sink and cleaned until the house was just as she remembered it. Fresh and clean. The old vintage sofa creaked as she lowered her self into it, and she cried. Cried for Nan. Cried about Jack. Cried for being so weak. For just... Running away. Finally, she cried for herself. She cried until it all felt better. And it did. Now that she was here, it was going to get so much better.

How was she to know how untrue that was? 


End file.
